Why we write

This shall attempt to be a reasonably brief expression of an experienced need, which one perceives to be one of countless motivations towards writing.

At the very outset, I shall consider the basic level needs of permanence and safe-keeping for posterity, that writing accomplishes, to be duly considered, folded, packed, and kept safely in that sub-conscious vault which houses other such factors of logic.

This, is where one begins...
Expression forms a major part of our existence. Much of what we do, is directly or indirectly aimed at adequately giving voice to that which boils within us.

Often enough, one reaches a point in the time-space-life continuum, where one knows something of "great significance" is there in one's little head. Said significance may be symptomized by extreme joy, sorrow, anxiety, bliss, melancholia, or any of the other assorted colours.
And often enough, in these situations, one is unable to quite place one's finger on one, or a set of reasons responsible. Even when one may feel comfortably in cognizance of the situation, chances are one is just invoking the lazy gods of convenience, and the slightest of scratches on the surface reveals an amorphous texture laden with confusion.

It is on such occasions, that I feel writing comes as a God-sent.
For when one writes, one is compelled to lend words to that which till now had just been a cloud of 'feel'. Words, one of the cornerstones of language and human intelligence, are inherently dual in nature.
While on one hand, a common standard of words with an agreement on the rules for usage et al, enables communication between two entities. Thus in a way, words indeed were most of what Boyzone had to take your heart away.
However,
Words are also restrictive in their usage. That is,
1. A word can only mean so much, and therefore it also does not mean everything else. Thus while there may be 2 universes within the scope of a word, that amalgamated di-universe does, without a shadow of a doubt, have a definite boundary.
2. If a certain entity/emotion/object has not been encountered often enough (in the open), then it remains an orphan in the language, i.e. with no identifier word attached to father it. Thus, till the time such a term is adopted, one's reliance on words means that certain things shall always fall beyond the realm of the express-ible.

This restrictive nature of words comes in handy in the context of writing, for when one writes to oneself, in one's attempts to remain faithful, one takes care on exactly what is expressed on paper/ on the screen. The fact that boundaries and limitations exist means that one is forced to quantify the previously entangled mass in one's head.
The conversion from thought to the written word, compels one's lethargic self to sit up, and work out just what is, and what isn't. Thus, in spite of the quantization error that invariably creeps in, the haze that had enveloped the mind gradually starts to fade, and one starts to catch glimpses of tha manic, smiling little child jumping around behind the scenes.

With a little bit of fortune, and much effort and concentration, the whole exercise of writing bears fruit, in one getting to know oneself a little better.
The monster that is one's mind stands reasonable tamed, at least for now.

With that, one gets back to whatever Quantum Physics/ Cricket/ Erotica/ Microeconomics/ Prayer one had intended to attend to.

And life walks on.